


John and June

by tosca1390



Category: Gilmore Girls
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-30
Updated: 2010-06-30
Packaged: 2017-10-14 15:58:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/150984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tosca1390/pseuds/tosca1390
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>This time, it would be different.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	John and June

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://barilace.livejournal.com/profile)[**barilace**](http://barilace.livejournal.com/) for her birthday. Post-ep for _New and Improved Lorelai_.

*

Taylor turned the lights off while they were still kissing, Luke’s hand firm and steady on the small of her back, keeping her centered and focused. Here, in the darkness of the town square, her eyes closed and his mouth warm and soft on hers, she could keep her wits about her, forget for a moment about—

“This is a public arena, Lorelai, not Cinemax!”

She could feel Luke cringe at Taylor’s nasal cry, the muscles of his neck stiffening under her hand, but he didn’t pull away, and she nearly cried from relief, nestling herself closer into the broad frame of his body to hide. He kept her close and kissed away her breath, mapping the lines of her mouth with his, whispering nonsense under his breath. It was the only thing keeping her off the ledge, the solidity of this gruff but wide-hearted man.

“Honestly, what if there were children here!”

“There aren’t, Taylor, you sent them home hours ago—“

“Kirk, I did not ask for your input!”

Luke exhaled against her mouth, something between a laugh and total exasperation. “They are completely killing this,” he muttered.

Finally, Lorelai opened her eyes, adjusting to the starry darkness, the street lamps soft and warm from a distance. His face was all strong angles and dark shadows, but she could see his smile, soft and small, the one she knew was just for her. Just knowing someone had _something_ reserved for her, and her alone, pressed against her chest with such warm tightness, hard against her ribs because she hadn’t known that before with anyone, not like this.

This time, it would be different.

“Taylor might be the new town grouch,” she said finally, voice low and still catching on the remnants of her teary car ride home from the Gilmore residence. “With you getting all married and all. You’re reformed.”

Luke fixed her with a glare. “I am _not_ reformed.”

“Like Johnny Cash. Oooh, am I your June? We could write songs and start touring and have an epic love story that lasts through the ages that also took a long time to get off the ground,” she said with a bright smile, her arm still linked tight around his neck. “Since, you know, everyone always thought we were nuts for each other, just like—“

Abruptly he kissed her again, soft and gentle and just enough to completely unbalance her. “I can’t sing. And I don’t like too much travel.”

She breathed him in, the diner-french fry-pastry smell, and it smelled like home. “And I’m not much for writing. Can’t rhyme worth a damn.”

“So maybe we’ll just stick to the last part,” he said, voice quiet and all kinds of sincere, socking her hard in the gut.

Tears burned behind her eyes but she blinked and smiled on, holding him just that bit tighter. “I’ve always wanted to last for ages,” she said finally, voice breaking with lightness.

“Stuck with me now,” he said, kissing her once more before sliding his hand from her and bending to pick up the case of Zima. “Come on, I’m done putting on a show.”

Her hands trembled for just a moment as she watched him in the darkness, clattering and cyclists and Taylor all distant in her ears. “But you’re so studly, Butch.”

Even in the dark, his glare was unmistakable. “What have I said about that?”

“Patty and Babette would pay big money for tickets to your gun show,” she went on gaily, leading him down the steps of the gazebo. “God, imagine if they knew about your tattoo!”

“Lorelai, _Jesus_ , I swear—“

In the middle of the street, in a soft yellow pool of lamp light, she turned and kissed him over their case of Zima, framing her fingers to the strong stubbled line of his jaw. “We’re getting married,” she whispered into his mouth, joy bubbling through her, fighting the crushing despair of earlier, and winning.

He smiled against her mouth. “Damn right we are.”

Smiling, she tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow and led him on to the still-lit diner. And upstairs, the Zima happily abandoned, he mapped her body with his mouth, circled a ring on the fourth finger of her left hand, and settled her, warmed her through, until she knew that _yes_ , this time would be different. She could do it right this time.

Later, in the hot darkness above the diner, with his arms still curled around her, his mouth against her neck, sweat beading along their skin, he murmured against her skin, something she couldn’t quite make out.

“What’d you say?” she asked, voice hoarse, craning her neck back, pushing the hair off her face.

He propped himself up on his elbow as she shifted onto her back, his eyes dark and unreadable in the weak moonlight. “I said, yeah, you’re my June,” he said, the words rough and catching in the thick air.

She blinked up at him, mouth slightly ajar. “So you admit you’re reformed?” she asked finally, at a loss, her heart beating so hard she thought she might pass out.

Rolling his eyes, he leaned down to kiss her softly, slipping his hand into hers. “I’m going to find you the perfect ring,” he murmured, a quiet promise. “We’ll do this right.”

She thought of Max then, of his calling Rory, of Rory, of everything wrong, all wrong—

“I know we will,” she whispered into his mouth. “And I don’t need anything but you, Luke.”

*  



End file.
